


Don't Think About Why

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Isle of Flightless Birds [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014-2015 NHL Season, 2015-2016 NHL Season, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Play, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Collars, Dom/sub, Intercrural Sex, Kneeling, M/M, Platonic BDSM, Polyamory, Revenge, Rope Bondage, Sexting, Trade Deadline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: “What about Brooksy?” Andre asks quietly.  Nicky’s fingers still on the back of Andre’s head, and then start petting over his curls again a second later.“He has a reputation,” Nicky says carefully.Or: Andre tries, and then tries again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2016 Hockey Big Bang. The PERFECT mix by Lightynight is here: http://8tracks.com/lightynight/don-t-think-about-why. Thank you to richxe for the beta!
> 
> Fits into my Isle of Flightless Birds / "soft dom braden holtby" timeline, but it's not necessary to read all those first (though, of course, i encourage you to read them)
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

“You need to find someone else,” Nicky tells Andre at the end of training camp.

Andre blows out a breath and digs his forehead into the muscle of Nicky’s thigh.  He’s kneeling after practice, his knees cushioned on a pillow in the living room of Nicky and Ovi’s house, hands curled around Nicky’s calf.

“I know,” Andre mutters.

“It seems like a lot to handle right now,” Nicky continues, his voice calm and quiet like it always is when they’re like this, “But it’ll be worth it once you pick someone on the team.”

“You just don’t want Ovi to get jealous,” Andre replies.

“Too late, I’m _soooo_ jealous,” Ovi says from Nicky’s other knee.  Andre slits his eyes open, and Ovi winks at him, from where his face is half-buried in Nicky’s hip.

It was awkward, at first, when Andre would go searching through the house for Nicky, feeling that shivery, jittery energy coursing through him that meant he needed to go down, and find Ovi kneeling for him already.  Sometimes – more than kneeling, but he’d always close the door really fast when that happened.

It’s a little strange, kneeling for Nicky with Ovi _right there_ , kneeling for Nicky, too, but they don’t do… anything while Andre’s there, and it hasn’t really been _that_ awkward.

“Can I still…” Andre starts, and closes his eyes again without finishing.

“Andre,” Nicky murmurs, carding his fingers through Andre’s hair.  “Of course you can keep kneeling for me until you find someone.  Just…”

Andre knows.  They’d talked about it, when Andre was asked to come for training camp, and Nicky had invited him to stay.  Nicky had been the one to offer to Dom Andre, but it was always under the condition that Andre would find someone else when the season started.  It was too much, Nicky said, to put Ovi down, and manage the team, and be responsible for all of Andre’s needs, too.

“I know,” Andre says again, because he does.

Nicky keeps petting his hair, his other hand held captive by one of Alex’s, and Andre closes his eyes with a sigh.

Most of the Doms on the team aren’t really close enough to him for him to ask them to help him out.  There’s also, Andre thinks, more subs than usually wind up on one NHL team.  Carly’s been nice to him during camp, but everyone knows Carly’s waiting for his “perfect sub” and isn’t really interested in platonic scenes.  Schmidty’s just too nice for Andre to really go down for, and Chimmer and Beags just throw him off too much.

There’s Holts, and Andre’s been brought into the loop by now, how almost all of the team’s subs and switches have scened with him, before settling with someone else on the team.  Andre knows himself; he knows he won’t be able to let go of Holts until Holts tells him to leave, just like he’s clinging to Nicky, now.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Nicky tells him, his voice soaked in amusement.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Andre grumbles half-heartedly, and almost smiles when he hears Ovi snort.

Orpik’s a little too rough for Andre; he likes roughness, loves it, really, but there _is_ such a thing as too much, and Andre’s not sure how well Orpik knows that.

Kuzy has that switch that flips when he goes into a Dom headspace.  Andre’s seen it, during scrimmages, when someone takes a run at him.  It’s almost like he’s a different person, teeth bared and eyes blazing, and it scares Andre, a little, when all he wants to feel is cherished and cared for and safe.

If he asked Latts, Andre’s pretty sure Tom would either kill him or cry.

That leaves –

“What about Brooksy?” Andre asks quietly.  Nicky’s fingers still on the back of Andre’s head, and then start petting over his curls again a second later.

“He has a reputation,” Nicky says carefully.

“For leaving,” Ovi adds, when Andre doesn’t say anything.

“You mean—”

“Not after scenes,” Nicky corrects immediately.  “I haven’t heard anything about him leaving a sub after a scene – and I would have heard.”

“But he leaves after…”

“The longest I’ve heard him playing with the same person is a couple months,” Nicky tells him, and pushes Andre’s curls back off his forehead.  “He’s not—”

“I know,” Andre replies, and looks up at Nicky.  His face is pinched, like he can’t find the words for what he’s trying to say.  “I just – at least until I get to know some of the others.”

“He not going to tell you no,” Ovi says, and smiles at Andre from the other side of Nicky’s legs.

“Right,” Andre breathes, and settles back on his heels.  “Okay, I’m ready.”

“If you’re sure,” Nicky says, just like he always does, and pulls his hand back.  “You want to start dinner, then?”

Andre nods, and stands slowly, the same care he needs every time he stands after a long kneeling session.

He goes into the kitchen, leaving Nicky and Ovi in the den.  He can already see Alex shifting, pushing Nicky’s legs wider so he can sit between them, have Nicky lean over him and trap him in.

 

.oOo.

 

From: Latts (10:06 PM)

_do you have plans with mom and dad after practice tmrw_

 

To: Latts (10:08 PM)

_they told me to stay away from the house lol_

From: Latts (10:08 PM)

_ew wtf_

 

To: Latts (10:09 PM)

_Ikr.  why are u asking_

From: Latts (10:09 PM)

_ping pong tourney u in_

To: Latts (10:10 PM)

_just you me and wilso?_

From: Latts (10:11 PM)

_maybe schmidty who knows_

From: Brooks Laich (10:11 PM)

_Do you have plans after practice tomorrow?_

To: Brooks Laich (10:14 PM)

_might be playing ping pong with latts and wilso.  why?_

 

From: Brooks Laich (10:14 PM)

_Seeing if you wanted to grab lunch, but if you have plans then nevermind._

 

To: Brooks Laich (10:16 PM)

_depends if ur paying or not_

From: Brooks Laich (10:16 PM)

_I’ll pay._

 

From: Brooks Laich (10:17 PM)

_Brat._

 

To: Latts (10:18 PM)

_sry got plans_

From: Latts (10:20 PM)

_bro did u make plans while i was asking u not cool_

To: Brooks Laich (10:20 PM)

_where were you thinking?_

 

To: Latts (10:21 PM)

_ill join next time promise_

 

From: Brooks Laich (10:21 PM)

_It’s a surprise._

 

To: Brooks Laich (10:22 PM)

_mean.  fine._

 

From: Latts (10:22 PM)

_u better_

 

From: Brooks Laich (10:23 PM)

 _I promise you’ll like it_.

 

To: Brooks Laich (10:25 PM)

_i know i will._

 

.oOo.

 

Even though Brooks had implied they would be eating out somewhere, they stop on the way to Brooks’s apartment to pick up an order Brooks had placed.  Andre complains, but only a little, and only because he knows he’s supposed to, because the food does smell really good.

“How’re you feeling?” Brooks asks, once they’re settled on his couch with plates on their laps and even more food still in boxes on the coffee table.

Andre shrugs.  “You mean about the team?”

“About…” Brooks starts, and waves his hand.  “I know it’s a lot.”

“I’m surprised you even remember your first year,” Andre replies with a grin.  Brooks throws his head back and laughs, and Andre grins wider.

“I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?” Brooks says, shaking his head.

Andre just shrugs and smiles and takes a sip of his water.

“But,” Brooks starts again, resting his arms on the table and leaning forward a little bit.  “I know it’s a lot.  It’s probably harder for subs then it is for Doms, too.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Andre replies.  “I mean, it’s a lot, but it’s not too much.”

“Nicky’s been helping you out, right?  Domming you?”

It’s hard to compare what Nicky does for Alex to what he does for Andre, to put them both under the same umbrella, but Andre nods anyway.

“And that’s… working for you?”

Andre narrows his eyes.  “Did Nicky tell you something?”

Brooks holds up his hand, placating.  “He’s just trying to look out for you.”

“I can look out for myself,” Andre objects.

“He knows that, and so do I,” Brooks replies, reaching over to carefully put one of his hands on Andre’s.  “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Asking what?”

“Asking you to sub for me.”

Even though Andre had guessed that’s what Brooks was going to say, it’s still jarring to hear him say it.  Andre hadn’t ever really thought that Brooks would _want_ him, even if Andre had been planning to ask him to Dom him anyway.

“You’re not just asking because you know I need someone?” Andre asks.

“Of course not,” Brooks replies, and Andre believes him.

“I’ve heard about what you do,” Andre tells him, and Brooks’s mouth twists.

“Yeah,” he says, and studies the plate in his lap.  “Most of that was when I was younger, to be fair.”

“If you’re just going to decide to drop me in a week, I don’t want to do anything with you.”

“It’s not like that, it’s…” Brooks sighs and looks at Andre.  “I didn’t just decide I didn’t want a sub anymore.  I still care about almost all of them.  I’m not going to blame it on them, it was all me.  I hadn’t really figured out my own dynamic yet, and we just weren’t compatible.”

“How do you know we’re not incompatible?” Andre asks, the last reassurance he needs.

Brooks huffs a laugh and leans over to the end table, pulling out a sheaf of papers.  He holds it out to Andre, and Andre smiles when he reads it.

It’s a checklist – a pretty standard one by the looks of it.  Columns for “love,” “like,” “willing to try,” “dislike,” “soft limit,” “hard limit,” and “other”.

“You get me here with promises of food just for this?” Andre asks, balancing his plate in his lap so he can grab the papers.  “You could’ve just asked.”

“Call me old-fashioned,” Brooks says with a shrug.

“Old-fashioned.”

Brooks sighs, and Andre laughs.

“I figured we could go through it together,” Brooks says, leaning closer to Andre.  “We can talk about it, instead of just both filling it out.”

Andre smooths down the edges of the paper, and nods.  “All right.”

 

.oOo.

 

From: Papa (6:49 PM)

_Are you coming home for dinner?_

 

To: Papa (6:58 PM)

_This is Brooks.  Andre won’t be home for dinner._

 

From: Papa (6:58 PM)

_Okay.  Make sure he eats something._

 

To: Papa (7:06 PM)

_Of course.  We’ll let you know if he’ll be home tonight._

From: Papa (7:07 PM)

_Thank you._

 

To: Papa (9:55 PM)

_im staying w brooks tonight see you in the morning_

From: Papa (9:56 PM)

_Don’t forget your bag is here.  You’ll need it for practice._

From: Papa (8:14 AM)

_Did you forget to come get your bag?  Alex and I will bring it._

To: Papa (8:17 AM)

_This is Brooks again.  Andre had sneakers and some clothes here, so he’s all set._

To: Papa (8:17 AM)

_He’d probably appreciate you bringing it, though._

 

.oOo.

 

“How are you feeling?” Brooks asks quietly, running his hand through Andre’s hair.

Andre murmurs some sort of answer.  He doesn’t even really know what he’s saying.  He’s not really surprised when Brooks taps him on the forehead.

“Words, please.”

“Good, Sir,” Andre says a little louder, nuzzling his cheek against Brooks’s thigh.

“Thank you.”

Andre sinks back into the couch, where he’s spread out with his head in Brooks’s lap.  It’s one of his favorite ways to sub, really.  He likes kneeling – of course he does – but there’s something so cozy about curling up on the couch with a blanket Brooks threw over him, with Brooks’s hands in his hair and running up and down his back.

After a moment he feels Brooks moving around, and see him out of the corner of his eye – how Brooks reaches for the side table, and twists back around with something in his hand.

“I’m going to try something,” Brooks says, putting his hand gently on Andre’s head.

“Yes, Sir,” Andre replies, and lets Brooks pull his arms out from under the blanket to stretch in front of him, and wraps something around his wrists.

It’s rope – of course it is, now that he thinks about it, even if it’s a little difficult to think about anything.  It’s plain, undyed rope, which Brooks is winding around his wrists and cinching together.

“Sir,” Andre breathes, his eyes caught on the loops of the rope, as Brooks pulls it taut and tucks the tail of it between Andre’s forearms.

“Is this good?” Brooks asks, his hand falling onto the binding around Andre’s wrists.

“Yes,” Andre moans, trying to pull his arms apart and feeling the constriction of the rope.

It isn’t something he’s tried before.  Younger Doms don’t really have the patience for bondage, Andre’s found; they just want to fuck your face or rub up against you.  But Brooks has been systematically working down the list of items Andre marked as “willing to try,” and Andre’s been _loving it_.

And they haven’t done much, in terms of sex, even though it’s already the end of February.  Andre doesn’t know if that’s Brooks trying to prove that he’s not just trying to get something from Andre and then drop him, or if this is how Brooks works, now, spending time on non-sexual submission to get to know each other first.  But as much as Andre thinks about pulling Brooks’s pants down every time he’s kneeling for him, he enjoys this, too, just sitting and relaxing with him.

“Not too tight?” Brooks asks, tucking Andre’s arms back under the blanket.

 “No.”  Not that Andre would really know how it would feel if it were too tight, but he trusts Brooks.  Brooks knows what he’s doing.

Andre can’t help it.  Having Brooks warm under him, touching his head and back, his wrists tied, sends a spark through him.  They’re not – they’re not even _doing anything_ and Andre can feel the stirrings of arousal making him half-hard.

He shifts, and squeezes his legs together, trying to… hide it?

“It’s okay,” Brooks murmurs, running his thumb over Andre’s cheekbone.  “It happens, sometimes.”

Andre doesn’t know if it’s more embarrassing that Brooks noticed that he was hard, or that he was expecting it.

“It’s just up to you what you want to do about it.”

He doesn’t even know what the options are.  Brooks seems to understand Andre’s silence, because he continues:

“You could go to my room or the bathroom and take care of it yourself.  We could stay here and pretend it’s not there.  We could stay here and you can take care of it here, or I can help you.”

“Which one do you want?” Andre murmurs, peeking up at Brooks.  Brooks hasn’t even touched him when they’ve played before; he wants to make sure he wouldn’t be making it awkward.

“Of course I’d love to get you off,” Brooks replies, just as quietly.  The look on his face is soft, and gentle, and it makes Andre glow.  “But if you told me you didn’t want me to, I would understand, and I would wait.”

That makes the choice easy, then.  Knowing that Brooks wouldn’t hold it against him, would stop if he wanted, gives Andre the confidence to turn his face into Brooks’s stomach and say, “I’d like you to do it.”

“Thank you,” Brooks says, and slides his hand under the blanket, the thick wool catching around his wrist and pulling down, exposing Andre’s side to the cool air.  He cups Andre’s cock through his sweats, and Andre gasps.  With just a gentle squeeze of his hand, Andre’s all the way hard, hips shifting into Brook’s hold.

“Sir,” Andre moans, rolling onto his back and pressing his face to Brooks’s stomach, to the little strip of skin between Brooks’s t-shirt and sweats.  It’s easier to rock into Brooks’s hand like this, when he can dig his heels into the couch for leverage.

“Is it good?” Brooks asks, and presses his thumb to the head of Andre’s cock.

“ _Yes_.”

Andre just wants Brooks’s hands on his skin, pressing into him, all around him, and he tries to reach down to force Brooks’s hand into his briefs but he can’t, not with his wrists tied together.  It makes it better, somehow, to lie there and buck up and just hope that Brooks will give him enough that he can come.

A moment later, Brooks tears the blanket off of Andre and pulls his pants down, closing his fist around Andre’s bare cock.  It’s so good that Andre almost cries.  He can’t help but buck into Brooks’s hand, and Brooks lets him.

It’s easy to turn his head a little more and press his lips to the bulge in Brooks’s sweats – and it’s a thrill to see that Brooks is hard, that tying Andre up and touching him and hearing him moan is enough to make Brooks _hard_.

“Can you—” Andre pants, flexing his wrists against the rope.

Brooks curses under his breath and shoves his sweats down, his cock resting against his stomach – he’s not wearing underwear.  Andre moans, and cranes his neck to press his lips to the underside of his cock.

“Andre,” Brooks groans, his hand tightening around Andre’s cock.  Andre whines and tries to get his mouth more around Brooks’s cock.  He doesn’t really succeed, but Brooks moans, so Andre counts it as a victory anyway.

Brooks’s hand grips his cock and directs it to Andre’s mouth, so Andre can finally get his mouth around the head and suck.  Andre can’t take much more into his mouth – and really, hasn’t done this too often – but Brooks doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he’s jerking his hips is an indication.

“Please,” Andre gasps, pulling back barely an inch from Brooks’s cock.  “Please, can I—?”

“Yeah,” Brooks says, and Andre bucks up and comes, his open mouth sliding down the side of Brooks’s cock.

He can’t do much more than gasp and shake, hips still twitching into Brooks’s hand.  Brooks pumps his cock a couple more times, and then comes over Andre’s face with a groan, and Andre swears he could come again just from that.

“Do you want me to untie you?” Brooks asks, putting his hand on Andre’s bound wrists.

Andre shakes his head, slowly sinking back into the couch.

“Okay, Andre,” Brooks says quietly, and goes back to petting Andre’s hair, just like he had been before.  “In a minute you’ll have to eat something and clean up.”

Andre just sighs and closes his eyes, and drifts until Brooks brings him back.

 

.oOo.

 

From: Wilso (5:45 PM)

_ur joining us for dinner no excuses only chipotle_

 

To: Wilso (5:50 PM)

_can’t tonight.  next time?_

 

From: Wilso (5:50 PM)

_srsly dude ur skipping out again?????_

 

To: Wilso (5:54 PM)

_next time, i promise_

 

From: Latts (5:55 PM)

_still waiting on that ping pong rematch_

 

To: Latts (5:56 PM)

_did willy tell you to text me???_

From: WIlso (5:57 PM)

_bro we haven’t seen you outside the rink since last week and we live with you._

 

From: Wilso (5:57 PM)

_chipotle and ping pong._

 

From: Latts (5:57 PM)

_srsly we just wanna hang_

To: Wilso (5:59 PM)

_i promise  this saturday ping pong all day.  i’ll buy chipotle._

 

From: Wilso (6:04 PM)

_its fucking monday u can’t squeeze us in until the weekend???_

To: Wilso (6:06 PM)

_we’ve got like three games wtf we’re all busy_

From: Latts (6:06 PM)

_toms refusing to talk to you he wanted me to let you know_

From: Latts (6:07 PM)

_also we’re getting guac and chips and drinks when you buy us chipotle_

From: Latts (6:07 PM)

_and u have to wear the eye patch for the first tourney round_

From: Latts (6:08 PM)

_and tom said hes gonna get a quesarito_

From: Latts (6:09 PM)

_seriously andre its weird not seeing you_

From: Latts (6:15 PM)

_if this is about giving me and tom space or smthng stop doing it_

To: Latts (6:17 PM)

_i’ll try to do better_

From: Latts (6:18 PM)

_not what i meant but i appreciate it_

From: Latts (6:20 PM)

_and apologize to tom_

To: Wilso (6:21 PM)

_i’m sorry.  i’ll do better_

.oOo.

 

Andre’s a little surprised he and Brooks have lasted as long as they have, honestly.  They’re about to start the playoffs, and he and Brooks are still together.  Even when Andre went for a stint in Hershey, Brooks didn’t even _mention_ anything about breaking up or finding other people.

Andre, now, allows himself to think that that time apart was practice for the off-season.

“What’re you thinking about?” Brooks asks, tapping his finger against Andre’s temple.

“Nothing,” Andre replies, pressing closer to him on the couch.  There’s some cooking show on; Andre can’t really remember the distinctions between all the different ones Brooks likes to watch, but he doesn’t mind watching them, especially when he gets to curl up half in Brooks’s lap.

Brooks chuckles.  “C’mon, I know you better than that.”

Andre sighs softly and presses a kiss to Brooks’s neck, right over the collar of his shirt.

“Whatever it is, just tell me.”

Andre shrugs.  “Just thinking about how long we’ve been together.”

Brooks hums and fits his arms around Andre’s waist.  “It has been a while.”

“Six months.”

“Six months,” Brooks murmurs, and kisses Andre’s forehead.

“I just was…” Andre pauses.  “Surprised isn’t the right word.”

“Still think I’m going to get tired of you and move on?” Brooks asks, a hint of humor in his voice.  But it’s too accurate of a statement for Andre to laugh.  “C’mon, Andre.”

“I know,” Andre replies.  “I can’t help it.”

“Well,” Brooks says, and rolls Andre over so he can press him into the couch.  “I can tell you I’m not getting tired of you any time soon.”

“We’ll be apart in the off-season,” Andre says stubbornly.  “There’re a lot of pretty subs in LA.”

Brooks shakes his head, a grin stretched across his face.  “None as pretty as you, babe.”

Andre flushes, but rolls his eyes.

“And anyway, I’m hoping we don’t get to the offseason for a long time.”

The both of them reach out for the coffee table and knock their knuckles against it.

“I could come visit you for a little bit,” Andre says, tugging at Brooks’s arm until Brooks lays down on top of him.  “I’ve only been to LA when we play the Kings.  Or you could come to Sweden.”

“Mmm,” Brooks hums, noncommittal.  “We’ll have to see what our training plans are like.”

“We can come back to DC a little early,” Andre says.  “So we have some time before the season starts.”

“Andre,” Brooks says softly, “That’s still a while away.  I know you want to plan—”

“I don’t want you forgetting about me while we’re apart,” Andre blurts out, finding the words once he can’t see Brooks’s face.

“I won’t,” Brooks tells him.  “There’s no way I could.”

It eases a little something in Andre’s chest, to hear Brooks say it.  Of course he hears every time Brooks tells him how good he is, or cute or hot or funny or any other compliment that Brooks gives him.  But it’s in such plain terms, now – Brooks isn’t going to find some other sub he’ll like better during the off-season, he won’t even be looking.  And maybe Andre’ll need to hear him say it again at some point, but for now that’s enough for him.

“Which one is this one again?” Andre asks, nudging Brooks’s shoulder so he can look at the TV as another show starts.

“Chopped,” Brooks tells him.  “It’s the one with the ingredient baskets.”

“Oh, okay.”  Andre kisses Brooks, then relaxes back into the couch.  “Is this the one where they got that stinky fruit?”

Brooks laughs, low and quiet.  “Yeah, this is that one.”

“I hope they get something gross again.  Those are the funny ones.”

Brooks laughs louder, his body shaking against Andre.  “Yeah, they are.”

                                                                                        

.oOo.

 

From: Brooks (10:29 AM)

_Sorry I missed your call last night.  Are you free to talk today?_

To: Brooks (11:36 AM)

_before dinner?_

From: Brooks (12:43 PM)

_Does 3:30 work?  I can be home by then._

To: Brooks (1:11 PM)

_3:30 my time or yours?_

 

From: Brooks (1:18 PM)

_Yours._

To: Brooks (1:34 PM)

_alright sounds good!!_

From: Brooks (1:47 PM)

_I’m looking forward to talking to you again.  It’s been too long._

From: Brooks (1:58 PM)

_Have you been doing what I’ve told you to?_

 

To: Brooks (2:04 PM)

_of course, i always do what you tell me_

From: Brooks (2:06 PM)

_Ha.  I’m waiting for the day that’s true._

To: Brooks (2:08 PM)

_=3_

From: Brooks (2:10 PM)

_You going to be good for me when we’re on the phone?_

To: Brooks (2:12 PM)

_of course im always good for you_

From: Brooks (2:15 PM)

_No you’re not._

From: Brooks (2:15 PM)

_But that’s okay._

 

From: Brooks (2:16 PM)

_I like it._

 

To: Brooks (2:18 PM)

_are you going to be home any earlier??_

 

From: Brooks (2:49 PM)

_I’m home now.  Do you want me to call?_

To: Brooks (2:49 PM)

_yes sir please_

 

.oOo.

 

“Andre,” Nicky says on the first day of camp, just as Andre pulls his chest protector on.

“Hmm?” Andre asks, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to raise an eyebrow at him.  Nicky just jerks his head to the door, and Andre spins with a grin on his face.

“Brooks!” He shouts, darting across the room to jump into Brooks’s arms.  Brooks laughs and catches him, pressing a kiss to Andre’s temple when Andre ducks his head to press his face to Brooks’s chest.

“Good to see you, too, Andre,” Brooks tells him quietly.

“I missed you,” Andre whispers.  Brooks kisses him again, and Andre knows he heard.

“You ruined it, Backy,” Brooks chirps, still holding Andre tight but moving back a little.  “I was gonna come up behind him and scare him.”

Nicky just shrugs, and Andre laughs.  Of course he’s excited to be playing hockey again, getting ready to start the season, but he’s thrilled to be back in the same city as Brooks.

They hadn’t really managed any time together over the off-season.  Brooks had his obligations in LA, and Andre had promised his parents he’d come home for most of the summer.  That’s where his training was, anyway, and all his friends that he hadn’t seen in too long.

It was hard, missing Brooks, but doable.  And as he’d said, Brooks hadn’t found someone else he liked more than Andre.

“We have to get ready for practice,” Brooks says, when Andre refuses to let go of him.

“In a little bit,” Andre replies, smiling at Brooks and kissing him quickly.  “If you’d gotten here earlier you’d already be half-dressed like I am.  Not my fault you’re getting slower.”

Brooks smiles at him, almost unbearably fond, and Andre flushes.  It was a little too easy to forget what that soft, indulgent look on Brooks’s face can do to Andre when he hasn’t seen it since the end of last season.  But it does a lot of things to him, and they’re all happening right now, right before they have to get on the ice.

“After,” Brooks says, like he can read Andre’s mind.  Andre wouldn’t be surprised if _everything_ he’s feeling was painted on his face.

“After,” Andre agrees, but lets Brooks kiss him one more time before they have to go to opposite sides of the room to get ready.

“So he’s your Dom?” Oshie asks, once Andre’s back at his stall and fumbling with his socks.  Andre blinks, surprised and looks over at Oshie.

He’s new, so of course he wouldn’t have seen the beginning of Brooks-and-Andre last season, and neither Brooks nor Andre are special enough for gossip about them to spread to the Blues.  But Oshie doesn’t look confused or skeptical – just thoughtful.

And Andre hasn’t had anyone _ask_ before, so it takes him a second before he says, “Yeah, he’s my Dom.”

Oshie slaps him on the shoulder, a grin spreading over his face.  “Nice catch, Burra.”

Andre ducks his head and flushes.  “Thanks,” he mutters, and pretends to be busy finding the edge of his sock tape on the roll.

“Hey,” Oshie says, after a minute.  Andre glances up; Oshie’s completely dressed, helmet in his hands.  “Just between you and me, sub-to-sub, you ever play with Holts?”

Andre shakes his head.

Oshie shrugs.  “All right.”

“Why?” Andre asks.

Oshie shrugs again.  “Was gonna ask him to put me down, and I figured you might be able to give me an idea of what I was getting into.”

“Oh,” Andre breathes.  “Um, I think Tommy did a couple scenes with him?”

“Thanks.” Oshie nods at him, jams his helmet onto his head, and clomps his way out of the room.

There are other subs on the team, of course, but not really that many, and Andre doesn’t really talk to Wilso or Ovi about their partners or anything.  They’re the only two he’s really close enough with that he would consider it, but…

Oshie’ll probably have fun with Holts.  Everyone seems to.

“Ready to go?” Brooks asks, stopping a few feet in front of Andre’s stall.  Andre jumps up and pulls his jersey over his head, and follows Brooks out to the ice.

 

.oOo.

 

To: WILSONNNNN (3:44 PM)

_So what doms have you scened with on the team_

From: WILSONNNNN (3:56 PM)

_who the fuck???_

To: WILSONNNNN (3:57 PM)d

_Bro its Osh answer the question_

From: WILSONNNNN (3:59 PM)

_why do u want to know_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (4:03 PM)

_All you subs don’t compare notes?????_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:05 PM)

_no????_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:08 PM)

_cmon_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:10 PM)

_i havent been w too many tbh_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:12 PM)

_not as many as u_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:14 PM)

_Idk if your trying to shame me but w/e i like subbing_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:16 PM)

_y do u keep switching doms tho_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:18 PM)

_are u asking me to compare notes_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:21 PM)  
_FINE_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (4:22 PM)

_So holts was fine_

 

From: WILSONNNNN (4:24 PM)

_just fine???_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:25 PM)

_yeah like I like my doms a bit more domming_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:27 PM)

_he still gives orders and I still go down ofc_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:29 PM)  
_but he like doesn’t do it enough?_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:31 PM)  
_i guess like i just want more like punishment or something_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:35 PM)

_yeah thats not easy to find here_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (4:37 PM)  
_your telling me_

 

From: WILSONNNNN (4:39 PM)

_anyone get closer than holts????_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (4:41 PM)

_well the d men_

 

From: WILSONNNNN (4:43 PM)

_wait all of the d men_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (4:45 PM)

_cmon wilso only most_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:47 PM)

_whats most_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:48 PM)

_matt, karl, brooks, nate_

 

From: WILSONNNNN (4:50 PM)

_nate srsly?_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (4:54 PM)

_Yeah we have fun I mean I dont always want someone hard right?_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:56 PM)

_idk i just have mike_

To: WILSONNNNN (4:57 PM)

_as long as hes what u need its not like u need a pack of doms_

From: WILSONNNNN (4:59 PM)

_none of urs r what u need?_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:02 PM)

_Theyre what i need at diff times u know??_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:04 PM)

_i guess_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:05 PM)

_like sometimes matts best to take me down n sometimes its nate or w/e_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:07 PM)

_and when they need to dom someone im there for them_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:09 PM)

_ok that makes sense_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:11 PM)

_so who besides latts on the team_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:13 PM)

_just latts and holts_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:14 PM)

_me and schmidty tried but no_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:16 PM)

_so like latts is it for u_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:18 PM)

_were not dating_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:19 PM)

_suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:21 PM)

_like how laich says he and andre arent ‘’’’like that’’’’’’’_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:23 PM)

_w e_

 

To: WILSONNNNN (5:25 PM)

_did u ever try with carly what is he like???_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:27 PM)

_nah he doesnt do that_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:28 PM)

_no one on the team?_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:29 PM)

_i guess like he dosnt wanna share n i dont pry_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:31 PM)

_youve asked the other subs tho right_

From: WILSONNNNN (5:32 PM)

_bro y do u want to know who everyones fucked_

To: WILSONNNNN (5:33 PM)

_just curious?????_

.oOo.

 

“Come kneel by the bed,” Brooks says, his voice quiet but full of authority.

Andre doesn’t hesitate.  He sinks to his knees next to where Brooks is sitting on the edge of the bed, the carpet soft under his bare knees.  Brooks had told him not to get dressed after his shower, after they got home from the game.

“Anything sore?” Brooks asks, putting his hand on Andre’s head and fingering his curls.

“No, Sir,” Andre replies, licking his lips.

Brooks hadn’t changed after they came home.  He’s still got on his suit pants, his dress shirt, tie knotted loosely around his neck.  He smells like soap, a hint of sweat, and just… nice.

Brooks’s hand tightens in Andre’s hair and pulls his head up.  Andre kneels up, and Brooks leans down to kiss him.

Andre hasn’t kissed anyone that kisses like Brooks does.  It’s dominating, of course, claiming his mouth and sweeping his tongue in, but it’s not rough like some Doms kiss.  He holds Andre in place and just… kisses him.  It makes Andre go fuzzy already, putting him down in subspace before Brooks has even really touched him.

Maybe kneeling there naked, Brooks leaning over him fully clothed, helps, too.

“You ready to suck my cock?” Brooks murmurs, leaning his forehead against Andre’s.

“Yes, Sir,” Andre whispers.

Brooks pulls back, but keeps his hand in Andre’s hair.

“Pull it out,” Brooks tells him.  Andre licks his lips again and undoes Brooks’s belt.  At first he wasn’t really good at undressing Brooks without his hands shaking and fumbling; Brooks always said he didn’t mind but Andre knows he did.  But now it’s a practiced movement – slip the leather through the buckle, undo the button with a quick tug, slide the zipper down.  Reach through the slit in Brooks’s boxers and pull his cock out.

It’s rare that Brooks is hard when they’re just starting, and Andre’s learned to appreciate the feel of his cock hardening in his hand or in his mouth or rutting against his stomach or ass.  But there’s still a thrill to pulling Brooks out, and having him already hard in his hand.

 _This is because of how excited he was to touch you_ , Andre thinks, and smiles as he licks the head of his cock.

“So happy to suck my cock, huh?” Brooks asks.  Andre peeks up at him and doesn’t respond, doesn’t try to explain his smile, just fits his mouth over the head of his cock.

Brooks doesn’t make a lot of noise.  He says things to Andre sometimes, about how he looks or how his mouth feels or how good he’s doing.  The real victory is when he gets Brooks to moan, though, or hiss out a curse.

Andre takes him further into his mouth, squeezing his hand around the base, the last inch that he can’t get into his mouth, and Brooks groans.  Andre looks up at him, trying to focus on Brooks’s face, and just succeeding enough that he can see the flush on his cheeks and how Brooks’s mouth is hanging open.

“Want me to come in your mouth?” Brooks pants, thrusting a little into Andre’s mouth.  “Wanna make me come in your mouth?”

Andre can’t answer, but he stares up at him, trying to beg with his eyes.

Brooks thrusts in one more time, then pulls Andre back with a firm grip on his hair and his chin.

“Want me to fuck you?” Brooks asks, pressing his thumb to Andre’s bottom lip.

“Please,” Andre gasps out.  His lips sting when Brooks presses against them, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Up on the bed.”

Andre scrambles to his feet, cock bobbing against his stomach, and crawls past Brooks onto the bed.  Brooks didn’t specify how he wanted Andre, so he picks what he thinks is Brooks’s favorite.  He kneels in the center, cheek pressed to the pillows and tilts his hips up, spreading his knees.

Andre feels Brooks’s lips against the back of his neck, and then between his shoulder blades, and then trailing down his back.  He gasps, arching back into it, trying to push back against Brooks until Brooks grabs him by the hips and holds him tight.

“Think you can be good and stay still for me?” Brooks asks, his lips suddenly at Andre’s ear, breath fanning over his neck.

“Yes, Sir,” Andre gasps, and tries not to jerk when Brooks reaches under him and plucks at his nipple.

“Or do you need some help?”  Brooks rubs the pad of his thumb over his nipple, then digs the edge of his nail in.  “Need me to tie you up so you won’t move too much?”

Andre whines, caught between two equally desirable options – he wants Brooks to tie him up, always does, really, but he also wants to be good for Brooks and stay still on his own.

“Answer?”

“Tie me up, please, Sir,” Andre gasps finally.

“Good,” Brooks says, smooths his hand down Andre’s stomach, stopping just before his cock.  Andre wants to rock forward, rub against Brooks’s hand, but he _can’t_ , Brooks said not to move.  “So good for me.”

Brooks steps away a moment later, pulling his hands away, to dig through the box he keeps on the floor of his closet.  There’s a lot in there that Andre’s seen, some that Brooks has used on him, but even more that he probably doesn’t even know about.  Brooks emerges with the plain undyed rope that Andre’s familiar with, though, and shakes it out of the loop on his way back to the bed.

“Arms up,” Brooks tells him, and Andre pushes his arms out on the bed in front of him, palms pressed flat to the bed.  He’s bound up quickly, a ladder tie starting just past his elbows, binding his forearms together, and ending with a simple double column tie around his wrists, before the rope’s tied to the headboard.

Andre feels the tension sink out of him, and it’s easier to hold still when Brooks slides a hand down Andre’s back to cup his ass.

“Good,” Brooks murmurs, a dry finger nudging against Andre’s hole.

“Please,” Andre moans.

“Patience,” Brooks tells him, and squeezes Andre’s ass.  “You know you have to be patient.”

“I know, Sir.”

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?”

“ _Yes_ , Sir, please!”

And he hasn’t been stretched, hasn’t had anything substantial inside him for weeks, but he _wants_.  He wants Brooks to just thrust into him, fuck him hard enough that he can barely keep himself up.  Brooks just tuts quietly, his finger still rubbing careful circles.  “But you know you didn’t have my cock in you all summer, and I want to make sure you fucked yourself for me like you said you would.”

“I did,” Andre manages to say, barely stopping himself from bucking back.

“I’ll just have to go to special care to stretch you out before I can fuck you again.”

Andre bites his lip on a sob.  Before the first time Brooks fucked him – the last time they did a scene at the end of last season – Brooks had insisted on taking _days_ of just fingering Andre, to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt.  It was amazing, but torturous, and Andre has no idea what Brooks will consider “special care” in this case.

He hears the click of a lube bottle opening, but when something blunt and slick presses against his hole, it’s cold.

“Sir?” Andre whispers.

“It’s all right,” Brooks murmurs, dropping a kiss on his hip.  “It’s a plug, to stretch you open.  You’ll wear this until I think you’re stretched enough from it, and then I’ll put in a bigger size.  We’ll work our way up until I know you’re stretched enough for me.”

“H-how long?”

“That depends more on you,” Brooks says, and then presses the tip of the plug in.

Andre moans and barely remembers to hold still.  It’s more and more of a struggle as Brooks slides it all the way in.  The way it flares, before tapering to a stem and base, is so completely different from Brooks’s fingers or his cock, and even from the dildo Brooks had put in his bag before he flew home to Sweden.

“Just like that,” Brooks murmurs, when the plug’s all the way in, and he can nudge the base of the plug with a knuckle.  “Feel good?”

“Yes,” Andre gasps, clenching his hands into fists to keep from trembling.

Brooks kisses the back of Andre’s neck and presses up against him, slotting his cock in between his ass checks.  Andre doesn’t really know when Brooks managed to lube himself up, but he did, and it’s a smooth slide as he thrusts against him.

He – he can’t not move, he has to buck back against him, Brooks pressed hot against his back and ass and the plug so unyielding inside him, and when he does, Brooks’s hand lands on his ass with a crack.

“Sir!”

“You know you’re not supposed to move,” Brooks pants in his ear, and spanks him again.  “Don’t you want to do what I tell you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Andre manages to say, clenching his hands around the slats of the headboard.

“What do you want to do?”

“What you tell me to.”

“Good,” Brooks says, and all the warmth and pride in his voice makes Andre relax, makes him believe it.  “Now put your thighs together for me.”

Andre shuffles his knees together, pressing back into Brooks, each thrust of Brooks’s hips nudging the plug just a little more into him.

Andre moans and squeezes tighter around him, trying to keep still, keep himself up, not push back against Brooks even though he desperately wants to.

“You want to move?” Brooks asks, mouth pressed to Andre’s neck.

“Yes, Sir,” Andre groans, his head falling against the pillows, sliding a little bit every time Brooks fucks between his thighs.

“Not yet,” Brooks says, and tightens his hold on Andre’s hips.

Andre whines, clenching his eyes shut and holding still, his breath coming fast.  He’s still floating, still fuzzy, still hard and loving the feel of Brooks behind him, but…

Brooks bucks up against him again and comes, his mouth open and wet against Andre’s neck.  It’s nearly silent, still, but Andre can feel him shaking, just a little, and Brooks’s grip on him tightening and then loosening.

“Please, Sir, can I come?” Andre gasps, trembling a bit himself.

“Not yet,” Brooks murmurs, and slides his hands around, one to pinch Andre’s nipple and the other to fit around his cock.

“Fuck,” Andre gasps and jerks into his hand.  “Fuck, _please._ ”

“You know you’re not supposed to move,” Brooks rasps, and spanks him again.

Andre buries his face in the pillows, keeping as still as he can as Brooks strokes his cock so slowly, thumb rubbing over his nipple.  He – he can’t do it for much longer, but every time he moves more than a twitch Brooks takes his hand from Andre’s cock and spanks him again.

“Please, Sir,” Andre whispers.

“Come,” Brooks says, and strokes him again, and Andre comes.

Andre more-or-less collapses against the bed, bucking into Brooks’s hand to ride through the aftershocks.

“Good,” Brooks murmurs, wiping his hand on the sheet and then smoothing his hand down Andre’s back.  “Good, just like that.”

Andre closes his eyes, sinking into the bed as Brooks unties his arms and rubs the marks gently, then grabs the bottle of water and granola bar from the bedside table.  Brooks has to move him so that Andre can cuddle up against him and eat the bites that Brooks passes to him, but once the blanket’s up around his shoulders, Andre’s content to lean his head on Brooks’s chest and drift.

 

.oOo.

 

From: Unknown (3:54 PM)

_Hey I’ve got a question for u_

 

To: Unknown (4:02 PM)

_who is this?_

From: Unknown (4:03 PM)

_Oh sorry babe it’s TJ_

From: Unknown (4:03 PM)

_I got ur number from ovi_

From: Unknown (4:04 PM)

_Hope that’s cool_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:05 PM)

_yeah its fine, whats the question?_

From: TJ Oshie (4:06 PM)

_Whats the deal with Carly????_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:08 PM)

_you’ll need to be more specific_

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:09 PM)

_his deal with subs_

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:10 PM)

_does he have a sub at home i haven’t heard about????_

To: TJ Oshie (4:13 PM)

_no?_

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:14 PM)

_um okay because I asked if he wanted to scene with me and he said no_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:16 PM)

_maybe he just doesnt want to scene with you_

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:16 PM)

_as if_

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:17 PM)

_I mean he totally wanted to you should’ve seen the way he was looking at me_

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:18 PM)

_I’m not making it up seriously why would he say no if he wants to????_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:23 PM)

_well ive heard things but idk how much of its true_

To: TJ Oshie (4:24 PM)

_i mean its not like hes said anything to me_

To: TJ Oshie (4:24 PM)

_hang on brooks says he and carly’ve talked about it one sec_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:25 PM)

_Hi.  This is Brooks._

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:28 PM)

_whats the deal with carly??? he into self denial or smthing?? i could be into that???_

To: TJ Oshie (4:30 PM)

_It’s not really like that.  He’s waiting._

 

From: TJ Oshie (4:31 PM)

_waiting for what??_

To: TJ Oshie (4:34 PM)

_He doesn’t want to scene with a sub that he isn’t sure he wants to spend the rest of his life with._

To: TJ Oshie (4:35 PM)

_He just doesn’t see a point to it if it’s a fling or just buddies or anything._

From: TJ Oshie (4:37 PM)

_so is he some sort of prude???_

To: TJ Oshie (4:40 PM)

_Just a not-good experience he had.  He was pretty specific about it._

To: TJ Oshie (4:41 PM)

_You understand that I’m not going to tell you all his secrets, right?_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:42 PM)

_I’m going to hand the phone back to Andre._

From: TJ Oshie (4:42 PM)

_yeah of course thanks_

To: TJ Oshie (4:44 PM)

_yeah like ive never seen carly with a sub so_

From: TJ Oshie (4:45 PM)

_ever????_

To: TJ Oshie (4:46 PM)

_yeah_

From: TJ Oshie (4:48 PM)

_so like if I like him or whtever we’d have to be serious and exclusive and everything??_

To: Tj Oshie (4:50 PM)

_Serious, yes.  Exclusive, not necessarily.  That’s all I’m giving you._

From: TJ Oshie (4:52 PM)

_BURRA GET UR DOM UNDER CONTROL_

 

To: TJ Oshie (4:54 PM)

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

.oOo.

 

“You can’t go to the bathroom now,” Andre protests, holding onto Brooks’s leg to try to keep him on the couch.  “They’re about to announce best lead actress!”

Brooks laughs and sinks back into the couch.  “All right, all right.”

Andre smiles to himself and curls up against Brooks’s side again.

“I see now, you just didn’t want to lose your pillow.”

“Caught me,” Andre replies, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.  Brooks smiles, and holds him close.

Brooks’s phone buzzes in his pocket just as they’re going through the nominees, and Andre makes a noise.

“Sorry, sorry,” Brooks mutters, shifting Andre around – grumbling the whole time – to fish his phone out of the pocket of his pajama pants.

“Not excused,” Andre tells him, but snuggles closer anyway.  But Brooks is still staring at his phone, and not holding Andre, not even just with one arm.  “What is it?”

“It’s…” Brooks starts, and then stops.

“Is someone hurt?” Andre asks, sitting up a little bit.  “Brooks—”

“I’m going to Toronto.”

Andre goes cold, like ice water was poured in through the top of his head, coursing through him and pooling inside him, starting with his toes and filling him up.

He doesn’t want to believe that it’s – but –

“What?” he chokes out.

“Toronto,” Brooks says again.  He’s still holding his phone, only a few inches in front of his face.  “I’m going to Toronto.”

“I – ” Andre starts to say, but he doesn’t know what to say.  _I’m sorry?  I don’t want you to leave?  I hope you’ll think long distance is as worth it as I do?_

They announce the winning leading actress, and a few minutes later, the winning supporting actor.  Neither of them says a word.

“They didn’t even call me,” Brooks says, at last.

“What was—”

“My mom texted me.  I had to look it up.”

Andre sucks in a breath.  What can he say to that?  What _should_ he say to that?

They announce the winning picture, and the Oscars broadcast ends.  Neither of them moves.

“We should break up.”

“ _What_?” Andre hisses.

“Would it really even be breaking up?” Brooks says, and Andre looks up at him sharply.  “We didn’t – we weren’t _dating._ ”

“Are you serious?” Andre demands.

“I just Dommed you, we weren’t dating—”

“You really think we haven’t been dating since _at least_ the middle of last season?”

Brooks’s face is completely blank when he finally looks at Andre, and that must be what scares Andre the most.

“I put you down when you needed it.  I looked out for you.  We’d hang out, we’re friends, but we weren’t _dating_.”

“Yes,” Andre tells him.  “We were.  _Are_.”

Brooks stands up suddenly, his phone held tightly in his hand.  Andre realizes he’s shaking, just a little.

“Brooks,” Andre says, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.

“I can bring your stuff to pract—” Brooks starts, and cuts himself off with a snap of his jaw.

Before Andre can say anything, Brooks starts down the hall to his bedroom.

“No.”  Andre stands up, hands clenched into fists at his sides.  “ _No_ , Brooks.”

Brooks pauses at the entrance to the living room.

“You don’t get to do this to me,” Andre says, and waits until Brooks turns to look at him before he continues.  “You don’t get to just – throw me away.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Brooks tells him.

“You can make any excuses you want,” Andre snaps, “But it’s your choice how you deal with it.  It’s _horrible_ that they traded you, of course it is, but you can’t take it out on me!”

“I’m not taking it out on you.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”  Andre stalks towards Brooks, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.  Brooks barely moves, and his face doesn’t change.  “You can’t just end things between us like this.”

“You keep telling me what I can’t do,” Brooks says, grabbing Andre’s hand in a tight grip.  “I can’t break up with you and I can’t say we weren’t dating, just because you don’t want me to say it.”  He tightened his hold, enough that Andre had to hold back a wince.  “I don’t want to be your Dom, Andre.”

“Brooks – you _promised—”_

“I didn’t promise you anything,” Brooks states.  Andre recoils, but Brooks pulls him right back in.  “I didn’t promise you _anything_.  I _very specifically_ didn’t promise anything.  It’s your own fault if you forgot that.  I only said I wouldn’t get tired of you, and that’s not what’s happening.  I just don’t want you anymore.”

Andre jerks away, out of Brooks’s grip, and stumbles a couple steps back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says shakily.

“Believe what you want,” Brooks replies neutrally.

It would be easier, Andre thinks, if Brooks was showing some sort of emotion.  It’d be easier to say that this is just his emotions talking, after he’s been traded.  But Brooks is too calm, his voice too even, his face too empty.  It all sounds too thought-out.

Andre can’t stop shaking as he grabs his phone and wallet and keys from the coffee table, and slips on his coat and jams his feet into his sneakers.  It takes him three tries to unlock the door.  He pauses with one foot out in the hall and turns back to look at Brooks.

“If you asked me to,” Andre says quietly.  “I’d forgive you.”

Brooks is back on the couch, staring at the commercial playing on the tv.

“Get home safe,” Brooks tells him without looking over, and Andre slams the door on his way out.

 

.oOo.

 

From: Burky (1:03 AM)

_pls tell me you have a lot of alcohol at your place_

 

From: Burky (1:05 AM)

_like srsly a lot_

To: Burky (1:06 AM)

_Yeah of course r u comin over???_

From: Burky (1:08 AM)

_yes_

To: Burky (1:10 AM)

_cool me and mike just started a movie_

To: Burky (1:12 AM)

_wait is this a drinking to get drunk thng_

From: Burky (1:14 AM)

_yes_

 

To: Burky (1:16 AM)

_do u wanna talk abt it?????_

To: Burky (1:17 AM)

_wait latts is better at this thn me_

To: Andre (1:18 AM)

_whatd u say to make tom so worried_

From: Andre (1:20 AM)

_pls dont make me say it just get me drunk_

To: Andre (1:22 AM)  
_how abt I give u a drink and then u tell me??_

From: Andre (1:23 AM)

_Fine_

 

To: Brooks Laich (2:25 AM)

_WAT THE FUCK DID U DO TO ANDRE_

From: Brooks Laich (2:27 AM)

_I didn’t do anything, Tom._

 

To: Brooks Laich (2:28 AM)

_LIKE FUCK U DIDNT_

From: Brooks Laich (2:31 AM)

_Please stop texting me I’m trying to pack._

 

To: Brooks Laich (2:33 AM)

_WAHT THE FUCK IS WRONG WIT U????_

From: Brooks Laich (2:36 AM)

_There’s nothing wrong with me._

 

To: Brooks Laich (2:45 AM)

_IM GOING TO FUCKING DESTROY YOU_

 

To: Brooks Laich (2:49 AM)

_andre says im not allowed to go beat u up but ur on our ice in three days watch ur fuckin back_

To: Brooks (2:50 AM)

_Im not going to stop tom from fighting you_

From: Brooks (2:52 AM)

_I don’t need you to protect me, Mike._

From: Brooks (2:55 AM)

_I’m surprised you’re not on Andre’s side._

 

To: Brooks (2:57 AM)

_i am_

To: Brooks (2:59 AM)

_Dom to dom, why????_

To: Brooks (3:08 AM)

_i promise ill delete whatever u say_

From: Brooks (3:10 AM)

_It just has to be like this._

From: Brooks (3:22 AM)

_It’s better this way._

 

.oOo.

 

“This is why I was worried,” Nicky tells Ovi, smoothing Andre’s hair back from his forehead.

Andre grumbles and digs his face into Nicky’s stomach.  He doesn’t think Nicky knows he’s awake, which really says more about how distracted Nicky is than how good Andre is at pretending to be asleep.

“Can’t always tell him what to do,” Ovi points out.

“I don’t want to tell him what to do.”

“It’s okay, Nicky,” Ovi says, and it sounds like they’re kissing.  “Protecting him.”

“Not well enough.”

“Nicky, Nicky.”  Andre’s pressed between them, then, when Ovi shoves in closer, his arm going around Andre’s waist so he can pet Nicky’s hip.  “Not your fault.  Have to let baby Caps fly.”

“If I’d let him stay longer—”

“No,” Ovi says sternly.  “You couldn’t have.”

“I could’ve—”

“Nicky.”

“Fine,” Nicky sighs, and curls his fingers in Andre’s hair.  “Fine, Alex.”

“Has to make his own mistakes.”

“It’s not bad that I want him to be happy.”

“Of course not,” Ovi agrees.  “And he will be.”

Andre shifts, and Nicky pats him on the head.

“Feeling any better?” Nicky asks softly.  It’s a different kind of soft than Nicky is with Ovi – even if that verges more towards exasperation most days – and Andre… missed it.  He missed spending time with Nicky, curled up with him while Nicky strokes his hair.  And he knows he can’t go back to Nicky domming him – not in the middle of the season – but he can allow himself this just for a moment.

“Yeah,” Andre sighs, closing his eyes again.

“Make us worried,” Ovi tells him, and curls himself around Andre.  Andre whines and squirms a little, until he’s settled comfortably between Nicky and Ovi on the bed.

“Sorry,” he mutters finally.

“Don’t apologize,” Nicky tells him.  “I’d rather know than not.”

Andre’s struck, suddenly, by how little time he’s been spending with Nicky since he and Brooks started… whatever it was they were doing.  It was too easy to sink into Brooks’s company, to seek him out instead of Nicky, especially when he knew Nicky was caring for Ovi and looking out for the rest of the team, too.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking up at Nicky.

Nicky smiles gently.  He always could read Andre well.  “It’s all right.”

“Now Nicky and I find you better Dom,” Ovi declares, squeezing Andre tight.  “Who you like on team?  Tell us.”

“Ovi,” Andre groans, looking up at Nicky pleadingly.  But Nicky just keeps smiling at him.

“No Carly or Latts,” Ovi continues, like Andre hadn’t said anything.  “Kuzya not right.  Orpik and Alzy and Beags not right.  Willy?”

“No,” Andre says immediately.  Sure, he’s seen the rope marks criss-crossing Richie’s body and thought about it, but he can’t really imagine subbing for him.

“Holts?” Nicky asks.  There’s a sort of forced neutrality in his voice that sets Andre immediately on edge.

He’s… even when he was with Brooks, he’d thought about it.  That’s why at the beginning of the season he’d started stopping by Holts after games, needing his approval the same way he needed Nicky’s and Brooks’s.  Osh’s an over-sharer, so Andre’s heard enough about how Holts is as a Dom to know he’d _like_ that.  Even just the way Holts is with him during their pre-game routine, and after games, it’s…

He hadn’t been able to stay away from Holts, even when he still had another Dom that he _thought_ he was dating.  After that first win, he hadn’t had a thought in his head other than kneeling for Holts.  And he didn’t get any better about it, as time went on.

“He would be happy to have you,” Nicky tells him quietly.

Andre nods.  And if Holts didn’t want him like that, just wanted to stay with what they have, he knows Holts wouldn’t string him along.  He wouldn’t tell Andre he wanted him and act like he enjoyed being with him then turn around and throw him out.

“If you’re not ready—”

“No, I’m…” Andre wasn’t sure if _ready_ was the right word.  But he wanted to.  He’d need to go down for someone soon, sooner than he could get comfortable with someone off the team or put on Nicky’s lap.  And the thought of subbing for someone other than Brooks didn’t fill him with dread, like he thought it would.  He was… excited.

“Little Burky growing up,” Ovi coos.  Andre sighs and lets the two of them manhandle him up between them so they can all curl up for a nap.

 

.oOo.

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:09 PM)

_Tried to pck up this dom n he tred to get me to go w his freind too_

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:28 AM)

_I didt do it theyre too nice_

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:43 AM)

_Thy couldv been murdrers n u didn care_

From: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:44 AM)

_Drink some water and go to sleep._

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:52 AM)

_dnt tel me wat t do_

From: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:53 AM)

_Andre._

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (1:01 AM)

_I dnt hav to litsen to u_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (1:06 AM)

_[media attachment – 03102016-7.jpg]_

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (1:07 AM)

_bet u mss me_

 

From: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (1:09 AM)

_Go to sleep._

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:07 AM)

_you better have deleted that_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:33 AM)

_I bet you miss my mouth_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:35 AM)

_That was always one of your favorites right_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:38 am)

_You didnt want to tell me but i could see it on your face every time_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:42 AM)

_Youre thinking about it now arent you_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:49 PM)

_You should think about how tight i always was around you_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:52 PM)

_I bet im tighter now my new doms makig me wait_

 

.oOo.

 

“Dude,” Tom says, from where his head’s pillowed on Andre’s stomach.  “Dude, why the fuck are you texting that shitstain?”

“Hmm?” Andre glances away from _Titanic_ and frowns at Tom.

Tom just holds up Andre’s phone.  The most recent text is from Tom ( _come over titanics on)_ , but the one before it is from FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER).

“I’m not,” Andre says weakly.

“Holts is so much better for you,” Tom tells him, tossing Andre’s phone onto the coffee table.  “Forget him.”

Andre can’t really put into words what he’s doing with Brooks, now.  After he sent that first drunk text, it was just… something he did.  To remind Brooks what he’d thrown away.

He’d seen pieces of some of the Leafs games.  He doesn’t think Brooks has found a new sub in Toronto yet, given how frustrated and choppy his play was.

But it’s – strange, keeping the bulk of it from Braden.  He wasn’t going to make the same mistake he’d made with Brooks and give everything he had to Braden.  He couldn’t invest himself like that again – and he also couldn’t completely help it.  There’s a part of him that feels guilty whenever a Dom would approach him when the team was out at a bar, and he’d lean into the attention before he could feel Braden’s eyes on him and he’d make some sort of excuse to get the guy or girl away from him.

But it doesn’t apply to Brooks.  He only feels guilty after.  Sometimes, he doesn’t feel guilty at all.

“You’re watching this again?” Latts complains when he comes in the door.

“It’s the best movie ever,” Tom tells him.

They do their weird not-kiss greeting, Mike pressing his forehead to Tom’s bare shoulder and Tom resting his cheek against Mike’s head.

Really, neither of them is in a place to tell Andre what to do about his own Dom.

“But like what was the point of changing his name to say ‘don’t answer’ if you’re just going to text him anyway?” Tom complains.

“ _You_ were the one who changed his name in there,” Andre shoots back.

“Wait, you’re texting Brooks?” Mike asks, settling on the couch next to Tom’s feet.  It takes barely a second before Tom stretches his legs out to put his feet in Mike’s lap, and even less time until Mike has his hands on Tom’s calves.

“Not you too!”

“Dude,” Tom says, looking up at him.  “Dude, you didn’t see what you were like.”

Andre swallows and goes back to the tv.  He knows that he spent a couple days in subdrop.  Nicky and Ovi, and Mike and Tom, helped a lot, but he knows that even after he played with Holts for the first time he wasn’t really okay.

“I know,” Andre says quietly.

“We’re not trying to guilt you or anything,” Mike tells him.  “Just, why do you even still want to talk to him?”

“You still talk to him,” Andre replies.

Mike flushes a little; Tom kicks him in the stomach.  “He’s an experienced Dom!  I have questions some times!”

“Nicky would always help you,” Andre says.  “And I know Braden would, too.”

“ _Braaaaaaaden_ ,” Tom sing-songs.

Andre blushes.  “Shut up.”

Mike and Tom leave it alone, after a couple more chirps, and all three of them wind up pressed together on the couch.

“Seriously, what are you texting Brooks?” Tom asks.

Andre thinks about it for a second, then says, “I send him stuff, some times.  Taunts, I guess.  About how he left me and I can do better and how much I bet he misses Domming me.”

Mike and Tom are quiet for a moment.

“Dude,” Mike says, heartfelt.

“I know,” Andre mutters.  “Braden knows some of it, but…”

“ _Dude_.”

“He hurt you, sure, _of course_ , but you _are_ better without him,” Tom says.  “And of fucking course he misses Domming you.  Who wouldn’t?  But like, you’re already doing better with Braden than he is with whatever substitute sub he found.  So, like.  Just stop dredging up all that negative shit just to try to get back at him.”

Andre nods, and Tom leaves it at that.  He’s forgotten, a little, how insightful Tom can be when he’s in the right mood.

Maybe he was neglecting Mike and Tom , too, when he was so swept up with Brooks.  Brooks never wanted to watch movies with them, or go to whatever bar with loud music and strong drinks Tom had found.  He wanted to go golfing and out to dinner at places where Andre needed to dress up.  And he liked all that, he likes golfing and good food, but he likes the other things, too, shitty movies and shitty beer.

Braden comes out with Andre and Mike and Tom sometimes, and he always manages to get a good tee time.

Andre’s still not letting himself put his all into this, this _thing_ with Braden, but it’s hard.

 

.oOo.

 

From: Braden (4:23 PM)

_Figuring out dinner.  Coming over tonight?_

 

To: Braden (4:25 PM)

_Going out with tom and mike sorry!_

From: Braden (4:27 PM)

_Have fun.  Brunch tomorrow still?_

To: Braden (4:28 PM)

_Of course!_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:55 PM)

_Braden actually makes me happy_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:07 AM)

_Hes better w ropes than u_

From: Braden (10:27 AM)

_Stop for orange juice on the way?_

To: Braden (10:32 AM)

_Tropicana right?_

From: Braden (10:34 AM)

_No pulp._

To: Braden (10:34 AM)

_I know, no pulp_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:48 PM)

_[media attachment: 03212016-4.jpg]_

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:53 PM)

_[media attachment: 03212016-7.jpg]_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:56 PM)

_You see those rope marks? Braden tied my wrists to the headboard_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (11:58 PM)

_And he tied my thighs too so I couldnt move_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:02 PM)

_u know how I like to squirm and try to touch myself and come_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:05 PM)

_Braden likes blindfolds it makes everything so much more intense_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:07 PM)

_He still hasn’t fucked me but I know its gonna be better than it was with you its already better when he fucks my mouth_

From: Wilso (2:38 PM)

_bro holts is comin for movie night right_

To: Wilso (2:43 PM)

_yeah were stopping for beer on the way_

To: Wilso (2:44 PM)

_braden says we can pick up the food too whered you order from_

From: Wilso (2:52 PM)

_mala tang make sure u get extra duck sauce_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:02 AM)

_[media attachment – 03252016-8.jpg]_

 

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:04 AM)

_See hes bigger than u are, look at how he stretches my mouth_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:06 AM)

_At first I couldnt even get him all the way in I had to practice_

To: FUCKING ASSHOLE (DON’T ANSWER) (12:08 AM)

_Braden really liked my practicing_

 

To: Braden (8:01 AM)

_Did you leave to get breakfast?_

From: Braden (8:04 AM)

_Yes._

To: Braden (8:05 AM)

_And coffee?_

From: Braden (8:07 AM)

_Of course._

To: Braden (8:09 AM)

_Youre the best =*_

 

From: Braden (8:11 AM)

_What is that?_

 

To: Braden (8:12 AM)

_Kissy face!_

From: Braden (8:13 AM)

_Oh.  =*_

 

.oOo.

 

“So,” Braden starts, putting his legal pad on the kitchen table.  “Predicament bondage.”

Andre nods, lacing his fingers on top of the table.  “Predicament bondage.”

“Did you look at that link I sent you?”

“Yes,” Andre replies, blushing a little.

“Did it seem like something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes,” Andre replies, a little quieter.

Braden looks up at him, a soft look in his eyes.  “Are you hesitant or embarrassed?”

Andre smiles a little, ducking his head.  “Embarassed.”

Braden reaches across the table and takes hold of Andre’s hand, pulling it gently towards him.  His thumb sweeps over Andre’s knuckles.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Braden asks.

Andre thinks about it, for a moment.  All he knows is that he _is_ , he can’t really figure out what it is about the website on predicament and suspension bondage Braden had sent him made him blush and fidget, and difficult to actually _read_ instead of just closing out of the webpage.

“It seems vulnerable,” he says finally.  “In a different way than other things.”

“Vulnerable how?”

Andre pauses for another moment.  “It’s more trusting.  I can’t even support myself, or control really any part of my movement.  So it’s… more, than what we’ve been doing.  I have to trust more of my safety to you.”

“Do you trust me with that?” Braden asks softly.

“Of course,” Andre replies immediately.

“It’s all right if you say no.”

Andre shakes his head.  “No, I do.  I do trust you, of course…”

“You have trouble putting all of your trust in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you—”

“I know.”  Braden squeezes his hand lightly, just enough that Andre can feel it.

“You know what happened with me and Brooks,” Andre says quietly.  He stares at the wood grain of the tabletop.  “It’s hard to think that won’t happen again.”

“I don’t know his side of it,” Braden replies, after a moment.  “But I know you.  I know how difficult it’s been for you to hold back, because you just naturally _believe_ in people.  He took advantage of that, maybe without realizing it, but he did.  I’ve been trying not to.  If I do something to make you uncomfortable—”

“You don’t,” Andre says quickly, looking up at Braden.  “Or, you haven’t.”

Braden watches him for a moment, and Andre looks away.  The late spring sunlight pours in through the kitchen window, lighting up the plants Braden keeps on the window sill.  He knows Braden sticks mostly to things that won’t die when they’re away for weeks at a time, but Andre wonders if he could convince Braden to give some pretty flowers a try.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” Braden says finally, “But I’d like to know we’re on the same page.”

Andre swallows and looks at Braden.  “Right.”

“I enjoy spending time with you.”  Braden looks off to the side, a rueful smile on his lips.  “I like you a lot, Andre, and not just when you’re subbing for me.”

“Me, too,” Andre says, a grin spreading over his face.

“It’s too soon for – a lot of things that would be a step forward, but I want you to know what my intentions are.”

“And your intentions are…?”

“This is in the future,” Braden assures him, “But I would love to have you wear my collar.”

Andre’s breathe catches in his throat.  He’d never thought that a Dom would even _consider_ collaring him.  It never came up with Brooks, obviously, but collars are for people like Ovi and Nicky, and Ekblad and the Mitchells.  Andre doesn’t get a collar.  That doesn’t happen for him.

“Really?” Andre whispers.

“Really,” Braden says, just as quietly, just as softly.

“One day, a contract?”

Braden nods, and Andre pushes his chair away from the table.  He can see Braden’s face shift, looking worried, before Andre darts around the table and crawls into Braden’s lap.  Braden’s arms automatically wrap around his waist, holding him tight and keeping him from falling, and that’s when Andre knows.

Andre curls his hand around the back of Braden’s neck and kisses him, pulling himself closer and licking at the seam of Braden’s lips.  Braden kisses back, his hand tightening on Andre’s hip.

“I’m sorry,” Andre tells him, breaking the kiss and pressing his cheek to Braden’s.  “I’m sorry about how…”

“Hey,” Braden says, tugging Andre gently away, so he can look at him.  “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But—” Andre starts.

“You didn’t go behind my back or trick me or anything like that.”  Braden shifts his grip on Andre, so one arm’s curled around his waist and his other hand is cupping Andre’s cheek.  “I know what’s been going on with Brooks.  I’ve been involved in it.  I know it’s something you need to work through.” Braden smiles wryly.  “Maybe I don’t agree with how you went about it, but you needed something.  I know how difficult it is to move past a relationship that ended like that.” 

Andre hasn’t wanted to move past it, is the thing.  He’s gotten to have this weird combination of Brooks and Braden for almost the whole season.  The transition from Brooks-and-also-Braden to Braden-and-also-Brooks wasn’t smooth, of course, but it’s always been them _both_.

But he hasn’t texted Brooks in over a week, and hasn’t gotten a response in almost twice that.  He hasn’t missed it.  He likes spending time with Tom and Mike and Nicky and Ovi and TJ and Braden and the rest of his team.  He likes cooking dinner with Braden and deciding on a tv show to watch and curling up in bed with him and – and planning on plants to grow in the window.

 Even when he was trying not to go all in, he couldn’t help it.

“I’m past it,” Andre tells him, leaning his forehead against Braden’s.  “It’s – it still hurts, but I don’t miss him.  I don’t want him back.  It’s you, Braden.”

Braden smiles, then, wide and joyful, and Andre thinks _yes._

 

.oOo.

 

From: Brooks Laich (5:22 PM)

_http://www.russianmachineneverbreaks.com/2016/07/02/braden-holtby-puts-a-ring-er-collar-on-it/_

 

From: Brooks Laich (5:23 PM)

 _Congratulations_.

 

To: Brooks Laich (6:09 PM)

_thanks_

From: Brooks Laich (6:10 PM)

_You deserve to be happy.  I’m glad you found that._

 

To: Brooks Laich (6:12 PM)

_I hope you do, too._

 

From: Brooks Laich (6:13 PM)

_I’m sorry._

 

To: Brooks Laich (6:13 PM)

_im sorry_

 

From: Brooks Laich (7:10 PM)

_Around the end of July I have to stop in DC to finalize stuff with my house._

To: Brooks Laich (7:21 PM)

_okay?_

From: Brooks Laich (7:36 PM)

_I’d like to go to dinner with you, if you want.  And if it’s okay with Holts._

 

From: Brooks Laich (7:37 PM)

_He could come, too, if he wants.  I just want to.  I don’t know._

From: Brooks Laich (7:39 PM)

_Just as friends, of course.  Nothing else._

To: Brooks Laich (7:52 PM)

_i dont think thats a good idea._

 

From: Brooks Laich (7:54 PM)

_Of course.  I understand._

 

To: Brooks Laich (8:04 PM)

_maybe when the leafs come down here.  ask again then._

 

From: Brooks Laich (8:06 PM)

_I will.  Thank you._

From: Brooks Laich (8:09 AM)

_I am really sorry._

 

From: Brooks Laich (8:16 PM)

_I just hope now you can see why I had to do it._

**Author's Note:**

> somehow my joking 'lol i bet andre sent passive-aggressive sexts to brooksy after they broke up bc of the trade' spiraled into This
> 
> join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Don't Go To War For Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501788) by [somethingnerdythiswaycomes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes)




End file.
